


Unleavened

by freshfuckinpot



Series: Dave/Link [4]
Category: Foo Fighters, Rhett & Link
Genre: Anal Sex, Arguing, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Feelings Jams, M/M, Panic Attacks, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-17 14:23:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18967027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freshfuckinpot/pseuds/freshfuckinpot
Summary: Dave isn’t much one for subtlety. Link thinks they mesh really well in that regard. Because, the thing is, Link isn’t really much for subtlety, either.





	Unleavened

They don’t get these moments often enough, if you ask Link. 

(Maybe he’s spoiled. He doesn’t really know anymore, but he also doesn’t question it, really.) 

But they do both wake up early on their own, their internal clocks going off well before the ones on their phones. So it’s no surprise when he wakes up to Dave rubbing his beard into Link’s neck, humming softly as he adjusts to being awake. 

It’s even less of a surprise when he realizes there’s an errant thumb trailing circles into the jut of his hip absentmindedly. Link, swallowing down the urge to yawn, makes a low sound in the back of his throat and reaches down to put his hand on Dave’s. 

“Mornin’,” Dave greets, and Link can hear the grin in his voice. And then his hips are pressing forward and Link can feel that he’s hard, lined up right against Link’s ass. 

He snorts a bit indelicately, and moves so that he can spin around, look at Dave face-to-face. He’s bleary-eyed still, right alongside Link in the realm of waking up, and something about it is endearing. The way he gets his arm around Link’s middle and tugs him closer is something else entirely, and Link doesn’t even mind the morning breath when Dave slots their mouths together. 

This is different than waking up together in Paris, because that morning, Dave had woken Link up with his wet mouth trailing down to Link’s cock. Then, it was heated and sudden and urgent, but right now, Dave is taking his time. 

He’s waking up with Link, slow and easy. His hands are kind, unrushed, and Link arches into them with a groan. 

“Morning,” he finally says as they part. 

Dave wastes no time, getting his hands on Link’s waist with a grunt, and encouraging Link to move, to straddle his hips. Link puts up a front of annoyance just to see Dave’s eyebrows raise, feel him rock upwards underneath Link. There are two big hands on his thighs, thumbs rubbing circles into his skin, and it’s nice. It’s so, incredibly nice. 

He could get lost in moments like this. 

But for now, he leans down to press their mouths together again, to hear Dave’s breath hitch when he trails his hand down. And, as he pulls away, an idea forming in his head, an itch that needs to be scratched, he’s careful to pay attention to Dave’s reactions. 

When he gets his mouth on Dave’s neck, he gets a groan in response, one of those hands moving to cradle the back of Link’s head. There’s a beat, a pause from both of them when Link shifts, scoots further down, off of Dave’s hips entirely and between his legs instead. There’s a sound in the back of Dave’s throat when Link kisses a wet path down his chest, tonguing a nipple on his way down just to hear Dave chuckle lowly when he does. 

It’s slow, quiet, and Link likes being able to take his time sometimes, so having Dave pliant like this is nice. It’s new, and it’s got him bold. 

It’s got him curious. 

So he gets his thumbs in the waist of Dave’s briefs and tugs them down. 

Dave isn’t a big guy. He’s lean, he’s broad in some areas, thick in a couple places, and Link often finds himself  _ touching _ , seeing if he can get away with kneading and groping. Most of the time, he can. 

This morning is one of those times, and with that permission, that boldness,he gets a dry hand around the base of Dave’s cock. He’s mostly hard, arching up into the contact, and he hums, his fingers rubbing soothing circles into the back of Link’s head. Link knows he’s watching, seeing how far Link is going to push, complacent with being toyed with like this. 

And Link wants to see how far he can push. 

So, he brings his own fingers up to his mouth and gathers a mess of spit on them, avoids Dave’s eyes when he hears the amused sound he makes. There’s an understanding between them going on right now, one they’ve silently reached together, and only when he presses the tips of two spit-slick fingers underneath Dave’s balls, not quite at his hole yet, does he meet his eyes. 

He’s smirking, his free arm up and under his head, looking at Link carefully. And when Link pauses, he says, “Feeling frisky this morning, are we?” 

“Maybe,” Link tells him, and then he’s slipping those slick fingers across Dave’s hole, still watching him. And even as his hole flutters, his mouth stays in that smirk, his eyes never leaving Link’s. 

Just like that, suddenly, it’s a  _ challenge _ . 

To keep the upper hand here, Link eases one of those fingers into Dave, careful and slow and watching that smirk turn into him biting at his bottom lip, body going tense for just a second. A groan rumbles out of him, heavy and thick, and Link watches him relax into the mattress. 

“Good?” he asks, wanting that confirmation, wanting to know he’s won. 

“Put your mouth on my dick,” is what Dave tells him. And with a grin, Link leans down and obliges him. 

Dave doesn’t rock up, which is always nice, and Link feels him clench around the finger he’s got buried inside him, feels the way his stomach muscles tense up. As Link sinks down further, presses up with his finger, Dave hisses, grits his teeth around a, “Fuck,” that rattles down Link’s spine. 

The hand still on the back of Link’s head tightens its grip. And finally, he says, “‘S good, baby.” It comes out of him in a rush, the closest thing to lost composure Link thinks he’s ever seen from Dave. His fingers are harsh in Link’s hair, and he can feel how he’s holding back from fucking up into Link’s mouth. 

So when Link’s free hand moves, finds its way down to get a handful of Dave’s ass and press up, hoping he gets the hint, he’s rewarded with a harsh, desperate sound and his hips working up in a stuttered drag. And Link hums around him, presses in deeper with his finger, a choked-off sound dragging through Dave’s chest. 

Those fingers in his hair pull tears of Link’s eyes right as Dave’s hips are jerking forward. He pulls off with a rough sound, his eyes watering, and he can’t help the laugh. Dave lets his fingers slip from Link’s hair around a, “Sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” Link rasps, nipping at the inside of Dave’s thigh with his teeth and pulling his finger out enough to rub at his hole with the pad of his middle finger. He hums in question, and Dave sighs, spreads his legs further in answer. Link doesn’t hesitate to press inside with both, that boldness guiding him forward, this newness rushing through his veins in waves. 

He gets his free hand around the base of Dave’s dick, guides it back into his mouth right as he’s crooking his fingers up with a grin. It’s probably too dry, with just a little spit to ease the way, but Dave still makes that same desperate sound, hips jerking up again. This time, Link is prepared, and he manages not to choke, but he loses rhythm for half a beat, his thumb dragging along Dave’s skin as his fingers press up none too gently. 

“ _ Link _ ,” Dave says, low and throaty, and those fingers that were pulling on his hair move to the corners of his mouth, thumbs pressing at the thin skin there. “Open.” 

He glances up at Dave, his eyes going wide before he’s obeying, pulling off to open his mouth wider. And then Dave is hooking his thumbs into his mouth, holding him open obscenely. Link’s jaw is already starting to ache, but he doesn’t much care, not when he’s got Dave like this. 

“‘M close,” Dave murmurs. “Can I fuck your face?” 

Link can’t help the whimper that tumbles out of him as he nods, letting Dave guide his mouth back down around his cock. And right as a rush of drool is pooling out of his mouth and onto Dave, Link remembers to slip his fingers nearly all the way out, listening to the way Dave’s breath flutters. As he’s pressing back in, Dave rocks his hips up, groans thickly. 

“Fuck,” he sobs, and Link feels like he’s thrumming. Dave’s fingers curl around Link’s ears, hold him in place like that, and it’s almost too much for Link, the way everything goes echoey and suddenly loud. But he squeezes his eyes shut, lets Dave rock up into his open mouth, loses himself in all of this. 

It takes him an embarrassingly long time to realize Dave is talking to him again, saying, “Gonna fucking come. God, I’m gonna come, keep-- Keep fucking me with your fingers, baby.” 

He’s panting, making that same desperate sound and Link opens his damp eyes again, listens to the slick sounds of Dave working his cock down Link’s throat, focuses on the feeling of him clenching around the two fingers Link has buried inside of him. The uncomfortable stretch of his lips and the feeling of Dave’s thumbs pressing almost too roughly into the fleshy sides of Link’s cheeks is a lot, has him feeling shaky and frantic. 

And he presses his fingers in deeper, drools a little more on Dave’s dick. 

Everything is slick and gross and Dave is groaning, body going taut right as he’s slipping his hands from Link’s face, dragging two wet lines of spit down Link’s cheeks as he comes. And that’s even wetter down his cheeks, and Dave’s rubbing that into his skin too as he trembles, his belly moving as he catches his breath. 

Link, in retaliation, leans to rub his face against Dave’s belly, groaning in distaste at the sticky feeling. 

Dave laughs, tosses his head back against the pillows, and tells Link, “You deserved it.” 

Tossing him a look, Link slips his fingers out and shrugs. Dave is still laughing when he says, “Come here, let me get my tongue in your ass.” 

\---

Dave isn’t much one for subtlety. Link thinks they mesh really well in that regard. Because, the thing is, Link isn’t really much for subtlety, either.

Together, it’s a dangerous game they play. Which means that when Link invites Dave to the office for a party they’re throwing, he knows to let Rhett know upfront exactly how Dave can come across. 

“I’ve met him, you know?” Rhett is saying, eyebrows raised with a grin. 

Link sighs, nods, and takes a sip of his mimosa as he tries to think of the best way to word this. He settles around a, “Talking to him through twitter messages and watching him sneak his hands down my pants are two different things, man.” 

There’s an indelicate snort, and Rhett is shrugging. “Why are you so worried?” 

“It’s new,” Link says directly, not sugar-coating it. “And he’s kinda intense sometimes.” 

Rhett chews on some ice cubes and Link tries not to cringe outwardly. He doesn’t think that Rhett is taking him seriously, and it’s getting under his skin, but he swallows down the frustration before saying, “I just don’t want you to be made uncomfortable, is all.” 

“Just keep it professional, if you’re so worried.” And that--

Boy, that hits a nerve for some reason. 

“I’m gonna let you take a second to think about if you want to rephrase that before I respond,” he says, his brow furrowing, his fingers slipping on the condensation of his glass. 

Rhett, crunching through another ice cube, tells him, “You’re the one acting like you’re gonna fuck your boyfriend in front of our employees.” 

“Man, you know what I’m trying to say,” Link insists, pointing a finger at him, crumpling a soggy straw paper in his hand the more annoyed he gets. 

Rhett’s laughing, a little bit, and shaking his head as he says, “Not really. Why are you so worried about me meeting Dave?” 

“I’m not!” and he sinks down into his chair when he realizes that maybe he  _ is _ . And he doesn’t know why. 

Rhett pauses. Link unfurls the straw paper from his fist and decides, “I want you to like him.” 

“I’ve met him, Link. I like him,” Rhett tells him pointedly. He feels silly. There’s this undercurrent of discomfort surrounding the whole thing, and he doesn’t know-- he doesn’t understand where it’s coming from all of a sudden. 

The idea of Rhett not getting along with Dave makes his skin crawl, a little. If he thinks about it hard enough, he’s sure he’d get to the reason why, but he doesn’t want to right now. He’ll work through that later. So for now, he drains the rest of his drink and says, “We’d better get back,” before tossing a couple bills on the table and standing. 

As they’re walking out, towards the car, Rhett presses in a little too closely and mumbles, “Give me a little credit, Link.” 

It’s startling, if it means what Link thinks it means, and he spends the rest of the day trying not think too hard about it. 

\---

“You know,” Dave is saying-- or, at least, Link thinks that’s what he’s saying, because he’s got three wet fingers pressed inside of Link, lazily crooking them up like he’s got all the time in the world, and Link can’t fucking focus on anything else, really-- “If you don’t want me to come to this party, I won’t.” 

“That’s--” and he’s panting, furrowing his brow, trying to reach a point where he can think about this properly. “I want you to come,” he whines, burying his head further into the mattress. 

Dave’s laughing at him, and Link arches back against his fingers. “I think you’re the one that wants to come.” 

“I do,” Link agrees around a gasp.

“Come on, then.” And he’s slipping one finger out, fucking into Link with them a little harder, a little rougher, and he’s so fucking good at this. 

But-- “Want you to fuck me,” Link sobs, reaching back blindly to reach for Dave. 

“Come like this for me,” Dave says, low and thick, and Link does. 

He fucking does, because Dave has been fingering him open for the better part of the last half hour, sliding his fingers through the mess of lube he likes to use. Link feels it start in the soles of his fucking feet, rolling through him in waves of heat as he garbles out a mess of words he can’t keep track of anymore. Dave’s fingers feel huge inside of him, and he only barely realizes it’s because he’s pressed back in with the third one. 

But then he’s pulling them out before Link’s had a real chance to adjust, is shuffling, manhandling Link just a little bit. He’s still trembling, cock still twitching, when he feels the wet head of Dave’s cock at his hole. 

“Gosh,” he groans, dropping his shoulders again. 

Dave hums, runs his hands down Link’s thighs as he eases his way inside. And then he’s saying, “Is it going to make you uncomfortable?” 

Link’s got to catch back up with the conversation, figure out where they left off, because this had all started with him rambling about his and Rhett’s almost-argument, how he’d felt offended by the time they left. Eventually, he settles around, “Just don’t want to hear the shit, man.”

“Sounds like he won’t give you shit,” Dave says, voice going gravelly as his hips touch Link’s ass. “Sounds a little jealous, if you ask me.” 

Link’s heartbeat finds it way to his throat, and he stutters through a, “Rhett a-ain’t fuckin’ jealous, David.” 

There’s a snort, and Dave’s thumb at his hole for a second before he says, “Someone who isn’t jealous wouldn’t tell you to ‘keep it professional’ at a party, Charles.” 

The name does something for him, and he’s biting at his bottom lip as Dave’s rocking forward. 

And it’s-- 

Rhett’s not jealous, Link knows him better than that, but he doesn’t know how to verbalize that to Dave right now. Maybe later, when he’s not shaky from an orgasm and also stuffed full of Dave’s cock, he’ll be able to. 

But for now he just sighs, says, “Make me come again,” and leaves the conversation there. 

\---

Dave brings it up again over dinner a couple days later. 

Link calls it dinner, but it’s really just Dave shoving a beer and some brisket at him on his back porch. Their wives and their kids are in the pool, and Link doesn’t think it could get much better than this, really.

That pseudo euphoria comes to a screeching halt when Dave plops himself down next to Link, taking a huge bite out of a burger, and says, “Think we should have invited Rhett?”

The groan is falling out of him before he can stop it, and his beer nearly sloshes all over him when he tosses his head back roughly, rolling his eyes in annoyance.  “Dave--”

“Hear me out,” Dave says, and Link realizes with a start that he’s serious. It wasn’t a joke or a tease; it was a serious question. 

“He’s not jealous,” Link insists, and he’s refusing to look over at Dave, doesn’t want to right now. 

Dave makes a vague noise is disagreement, but concedes, “Maybe jealous isn’t the right word, then. Do you think he feels left out?” 

That makes Link snort, indelicate and perhaps a little mean. Shaking his head around a, “No,” Link wants nothing more than to leave the conversation there. It’s a little unfair, right? To be spending a day with his and Dave’s families, to be having such a picture perfect day, only to be dragged back to that conversation with Rhett that’s left such a bad taste in his mouth. 

“Link,” Dave says, voice pitched low like he’s about to scold him, and that’s--

That’s real unfair. 

He’s annoyed, just like that, and he’s standing before he can really gather his thoughts, walking back towards the house, ignoring Dave when he says his name again. 

And it’s not until he’s inside, pouring himself a glass of water and chewing on the inside of his lip that he realizes Dave’s followed him inside. He’s quiet, giving Link his space as he washes his hands in the sink, starts cleaning the mess on the counter in a really pointed sort of way. 

The silence is thick, heavy, and Link eventually breaks it with a rough, “Did you have to bring it up today?” 

“It’s been bothering me, man,” Dave tells him, nodding. “I’m kind of the other man here, Link.” 

“Rhett’s my  _ friend _ ,” Link starts, the floodgates finally opening, everything starting to trickle out of him all at once. “He’s my business partner, my best friend. I’m not fucking him or dating him or married to him.” 

“Maybe you should.” 

“Should  _ what _ ?”

It’s a challenge. Link should really know better than to think Dave won’t take him up on it, because without skipping a beat Dave takes a few steps closer, tucks his hair behind his ears and tells Link, “Maybe you should fuck Rhett.” 

“He’s my friend,” Link insists, like a broken record, the same thing Link’s been saying for years and years, that same defense, a comfort zone that he’s terrified to step out of. 

“I’ve fucked plenty of my friends,” Dave says, shrugging his shoulders. “And if you want my opinion, you two should have started fucking a long time ago.” 

“Oh yeah?” Link’s ears are ringing, his fingers going numb from how tightly his hands are balled into fists. “Is that what you think, Dave?” 

“It is, yeah.” 

Somehow they’ve gotten a lot closer, and Link doesn’t know who was walking towards the other, all he knows is that he can smell the beer on Dave’s breath. And Link spits out a rough, “You’re an asshole.” 

“Yeah,” Dave agrees. “That’s how you feel, huh?” 

“It is, yeah,” Link mocks. The anger bubbles up inside him, and suddenly he’s looking for a fight, getting his hands on Dave’s chest and shoving at him, getting more annoyed when Dave just takes it, steadies his footing and sways just a bit. “Fuck you.” 

“Go right ahead,” is what he says, and Link’s mouth goes dry. 

And this time when Link gets his hands on him, it’s to get two fistfuls of his shirt and start pulling it over Dave’s head. He’s panting already, even more so when Dave dives forward to smash their mouths together, harsh and rough and matching the pulsating beat in Link’s head. 

Everything feels too loud, too much, and before he knows it, Dave is guiding him through the house, to a familiar room. What really riles him up is that every time he opens his mouth to say anything, Dave tells him, “Shut up, Link.” 

It turns to sludge in his veins, the anger thick and wrong in him, and he’s barely thinking when he turns around in the middle of the hall, faces Dave, and spits on him in one motion. 

Just as quick, without so much as flinching, Dave spits right back, the mess of it landing on Link’s cheek. It’s gross, and something about it puts him back in place. He isn’t sure if it’s the shock of it, the fact that Dave still looks calm, put together, like this is just one of his kids throwing a fit--

And that’s it, isn’t it? 

Link’s just throwing a tantrum. Right here, right in the middle of Dave’s home. 

Using the edge of his shirt, he wipes his face, watching Dave do the same with the back of his hand, and then they’re just standing in the hall. Link’s chest is heaving, and his brow is furrowed, and he’s waiting for Dave to say something, to  _ do  _ something. 

But all he does is get a hand on Link’s stomach and push at him until he’s moving, walking backwards through the door Dave opens. The door closes right as Link is sitting on the edge of the bed, flopping backwards with a heavy groan. 

“I don’t wanna have sex,” he says, feeling exhausted and heavy. 

Dave steps between his legs, puts his hands on Link’s belly just to grab his attention, and says, “Good. Me neither.” 

He’s leaning down before Link realizes what’s really happening, pressing the weight of himself down onto Link. It’s grounding. 

It’s calming, he realizes, like a weighted blanket except it’s Dave, and he’s talking-- “You gotta talk to Rhett, though, man.” 

Link takes a second, shuts his eyes and sucks in a heavy breath, feels it fill his lungs. He lets it linger for a moment before letting it out. And he tries, “I’m sorry I spit on you.” 

“Quit avoiding this conversation. I don’t care that you spit on me.” Dave is suddenly a little heavier, more of his weight pressed to Link, his face hovering just a couple inches above Link’s.

There’s a levee he has built in regards to Rhett, is the thing. He’s almost certain Rhett’s got one for him, though lately that’s been a question in the back his mind. What Dave’s asking him to do is let that levee breach. Historically speaking, there’s very rarely any good that comes out of a levee breach, and Link isn’t sure he’s ready for what could happen. 

There are only a couple ways this could go. 

But Dave looks serious, and his words from earlier ring in Link’s skull for a second, that he feels like  _ the other man.  _ And that’s not fair to Dave. 

So he sighs, opens his eyes. He says, “I’ll think about it.” 

“You promise?” Dave asks, and Link looks up at him, takes in the lines of his brow, how serious he looks. When he nods, it earns him a quick, dry kiss, and a, “Thank you.” 

Things are kind of a blur from there, them getting Dave redressed, both of them cleaning up and heading back outside to their families. Link feels silly for the rest of the day, a little shaky, but Dave sticks close by, sneaks in little squeezes to let Link know he’s okay. 

Later, on the way home, Christy asks him if he’s okay, and he doesn’t have an answer for her. She tucks her hand in his and they fall silent the rest of the ride home. 

He’ll talk to her about it later. 

He just needs to clear his head first.

\---

“Can I fuck you?” 

Dave looks at him from where he’s sitting on the couch. The rhythmic tapping of his feet stops, and he blinks a couple times. “Here?”

Link shrugs. He looks around. Nobody is at the office anymore-- it’s just the two of them. Rhett’s been gone a while. 

The only reason they’re even here is because Link needed to catch up on some emails he’d missed over the weekend before he and Dave went to dinner. 

So he bites his bottom lip, shrugs again, and says, “Yeah.” 

“This a thing for you?” Dave jokes, raising an eyebrow as he tosses his phone to the side, pats at his thighs in that way that means he wants Link to come sit in his lap. It’s like a Pavlovian response for him to get up, make his way over. 

And as he’s sinking down in Dave’s lap, knees on either side of his hips, he says, “Nah, not really.” 

“Then why here?” He gets his hands on Link’s sides, thumbs rubbing circles on instinct. 

Link squirms a little, embarrassed, not wanting to answer. Because the thing is, he’s-- 

Well, he’s thinking about talking to Rhett. 

After a pause, he settles on, “‘M gonna talk to Rhett.” 

“While you’re fucking me? You gonna call him? Make him listen? I can be loud for you.” 

Link can’t help the laugh, how he squirms a little bit more. “No, come on, man. Just-- Let me fuck you. Please.” 

“Tell me why,” Dave insists. “Why here?” 

“Because this is where we are!” Link tells him, hands going for where Dave’s are inching up under his shirt. “Come on.” 

“You got lube?” Dave asks, seemingly done asking questions for now, and he’s pawing at Link’s skin, fingers digging in familiarly. When Link nods, he trails one of those hands down to cup over where he’s not fully hard yet, but getting there. “Go get it.” 

The way he says it, his hand not moving, it feels like a challenge, and Link takes him up on it, peeling himself off of Dave’s lap and moving to go dig through his desk. He knows it’s there, because he put it there not long ago, his head wrapped up in all of this stuff for the past two weeks. Really, he’d just wanted to be prepared, to quell the anxiety and the ‘what if’s constantly buzzing in the back of his head. 

As he’s digging, he can hear Dave shifting on the couch, so he glances over just in time to see him undoing his jeans, slipping his shoes off and kicking them to the side. 

The bottle is tucked underneath some other things in the bottom drawer, and once Link finds it, he turns to walk back over to Dave, making sure he makes a detour to lock the door just in case. 

He feels like he’s buzzing. Every single one of his nerve endings are thrumming, and Dave is looking up at him expectantly. He looks a bit ridiculous, if Link is honest, with his shoes and pants off, shirt rucked up a little bit. Splayed out on the couch like he is. 

It should be silly, should be enough to have Link chuckling, but much like a couple of weeks ago, when Dave had allowed him a little taste of something similar, he just feels  _ bold _ .

He feels fuzzy. 

And he gets a hand on Dave’s thigh, encourages him to lay the other way, flat on the couch with one of his legs dangling off the side so Link can get between them. There’s a curious hum as he complies, and Link settles in place, gets his hands higher up on Dave’s thighs to try and see if he can turn those noises into some other ones. 

“You just gonna stare at me?” Dave asks, grinning, getting his hair from underneath him. 

“Maybe,” Link tells him, digging his fingers in a little bit, and Dave squirms for a moment before reaching up to tug Link to him. 

It’s easy to slot their mouths together, for Link to trail his hands up Dave’s sides, listen to the heavy sigh he lets out. And when he arches up into Link’s touch, it’s almost as good as when he asks, “Want me to walk you through how to do this?” 

Because-- 

Gosh, he’s calling Link’s bluff. He almost starts trembling, overwhelmed and unprepared, and it’s not like he doesn’t know  _ how  _ to do it. 

He’s just never done it. Not other than that one morning, anyway. And even if he had, Dave is a new partner to figure out, learn what makes him tick. 

So shyly, a bit shakily, he nods. Something is caught in his throat, but he doesn’t pay it any mind, and focuses instead on the tone of Dave’s voice when he says, “I know you know how to finger me.” 

“Yeah,” Link groans, leaning further down to bury his face in Dave’s neck, hiding the heat on his face at this conversation. “I get the-- I know what I’m supposed to be doing. I’ve got some experience with the other side of this, after all.” 

“I like two,” Dave says, sounding warm and fond. “Two at once, and then your dick.” He gets his hand on Link’s back, rubs soothing circles there like Link is going to bolt. And then he asks, “How do you think Rhett likes it?” 

It damn near burns through Link, the shock of that question, and he digs his fingers into Dave’s sides without really thinking about it, whining in the back of his throat. 

There’s a siren going off in his head, but he ignores it. It’s a familiar tone, and it’s easy to push aside as he promises, “This isn’t about Rhett.” 

“It is, a little,” Dave says, shrugging. And Link presses his mouth to Dave’s neck wetly, reveling in it when he shivers a little bit at the feeling, groaning quietly.  

Link pulls away, sits back so he can get his thumbs in the waistband of Dave’s briefs, tug them down his legs. It’s a bit awkward getting them off, but they manage, and then he’s sitting Dave up to pull his shirt off, too, leaving him completely bare while Link is completely clothed. 

This is new. It’s usually the other way around, but Link doesn’t feel like he has any more control than he usually does, he just feels different. He feels like he should be taking his clothes off, too, so he reaches to take his own shirt off, tossing it to the floor with the pile he’s got going. 

In the pause they share, when Link is manhandling Dave so that he’s got that leg dangling off the side of the couch bent at the knee, foot up on the couch, Link has a moment of panic. It’s just a flutter of it, in his chest, that Dave is just humoring him. And he has to lean down, smash their mouths together a bit roughly, hear the hitch in Dave’s breath, and pull away to ask, “Do you actually want this?” 

“I know how to say ‘no’, Link,” Dave tells him, and smooths his hands down Link’s back. “Do you want this?” 

“Yeah,” Link promises. “Yeah, I want-- wanna fuck you.” 

“I want you to fuck me,” and it’s-- 

Gosh, it’s good to fucking hear him say that, to have that verbal confirmation that they’re on the same page. He feels a little clearer then, and a little bolder again as he squeezes lube onto his fingers and tosses the bottle on the couch behind him. 

“Not a lot,” Dave murmurs, his jaw set as Link presses at him with the pad of his middle finger. 

“Not a lot of lube?” Link asks, and he remembers what Dave told him before, presses into him with two fingers at once, listening to the groan that tumbles out of him as soon as he does. 

The nod he gets in answer is shaky, and when Link’s fingers are pressed all the way inside him, he makes another thick sound, squeezes his eyes shut. “I like the stretch. Fuck, Link, you’re doing so good already.” 

“You do this often?” 

And Dave laughs, doesn’t answer him, pulls him down so that he can slot their mouths together in a kiss that’s wet and almost obscene. When Link pulls away, Dave says, “I’ve done it more than you have, that’s for sure.” 

“How do you know how much I’ve done it?” Link asks, his face hot, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. 

Dave hums, his hips rocking down against Link’s hand, and Link gets the message, curling his fingers up until Dave is groaning, his shoulders going a little tense, chasing the feeling when it ends. So Link does it again, slips his fingers back and angles his fingers the same as before, chest filling with pride when Dave’s mouth drops open around a heavier, louder sound. It rumbles through his chest and lands somewhere at the base of Link’s stomach. 

He forgot he’d asked a question right up until Dave is saying, “Been doing all of this a lot longer than you have, Link.” 

It’s-- 

It’s off, a little too serious for the moment they’re having, and Link meets Dave’s eyes for a moment, takes in how he’s licking his bottom lip and clenching around Link’s fingers as if to tell him to keep going. And the thing about it, is that Link doesn’t have an argument for it, because Dave’s right. 

He has been doing all of this a lot longer than Link has. 

“I’m gonna talk to Rhett,” Link says. 

“Call him,” Dave teases. “Get your dick inside me and then call him.” 

For a moment, Link hesitates, but then in one swift motion, he’s slipping his fingers out of Dave, using his clean hand to get his jeans open, tugging them down to his thighs. And then he’s getting his cock out, using his other hand to wrap around the base, line himself up with Dave’s hole. 

“Come on,” Dave hums, and he’s grinning up at Link. 

Link’s hands are shaking, even more-so when he finally presses inside, listening to the hitch in Dave’s breath, paying attention to how his body goes taut. There’s a sharp breath, and then Dave is groaning, exhaling heavily before saying, “Fuck me.” 

And Link’s hands are shaking. 

He says, “I am.” It slurs out of him, thick and silly, but Dave arches into him all the same. 

This is--

Gosh, it’s so much. Somehow, this is almost too much, too different. And it’s fucking good. It’s everything, all at once, a rush of feeling and before he knows it, he’s rocking his hips up hard and sharp. Dave digs his fingers into Link’s arms, makes a sound in the back of his throat like he’s been shocked. 

After a beat, that sound melts into a moan, settling in the base of Link’s spine. 

The office feels huge around him all of a sudden, all of his focus and energy on Dave, on this moment, and the office is echoing around them in the background. This is different, it’s bigger. 

It’s different. 

He reaches up, gets a hand on the side of Dave’s head just for the contact, steadying himself as he rocks his hips forward, gasping when Dave clenches down around him. There’s a hum, and Dave reaches down to wrap his fist around his own cock. 

He tells Link, “Feels good, baby.” 

And Link is-- 

He’s shaking, just a little, chasing a feeling that hasn’t gone anywhere, searching for more of something he’s already getting so much of. And gosh, but he’s selfish, isn’t he? 

When he comes, it’s sudden, a shock of feeling all at once, and he’s moving, shifting so that he can watch the way Dave’s hips arch up. 

“Fuck,” Link hisses, pulling out carefully, and Dave whines, fists dryly over his own cock before Link’s brain is catching on and he’s slapping Dave’s hand out of the way. He gets a couple of fingers back inside of him, watches how that makes his eyes flutter. 

And then he’s shifting, moving so that he can get his mouth around him. 

“Fuck, Link,” Dave groans, his hands moving in a rush to get at Link’s scalp. He cards his fingers through Link’s hair and guides him how he wants; and just like that, things slot back into place. 

Link feels steadier when Dave starts rocking his hips up, filling the office with the obscene sounds of his cock hitting the back of Link’s throat, and it’s fucking good. 

His head feels clearer, and he’s glad for it. 

Dave pulls out abruptly, gets his fist back around his cock, but keeps Link pressed close, so that his knuckles are dragging across Link’s face just so as he jerks himself off. When Link crooks his fingers inside of Dave, pulls them out just far enough to press back in with them, Dave comes. 

He makes a mess across Link’s face, one hand holding him in place and the other squeezing himself through his orgasm. Link’s eyes are closed through it, and he waits until Dave lets him go, murmurs a shaky, “Come here,” to open them. 

When he does, he’s met with Dave’s soft, careful look, and Dave’s shirt in his hand instead of on the floor, and Link realizes a beat of time must have passed. Carefully, Dave wipes his face clean for him. 

It’s easy to collapse onto him as soon as he’s done, dropping his shirt back on the floor. They’re gross, and they both definitely need to shower, but Link just wants to stay like this for a second. Pressed together, listening to the pounding of Dave’s heart in his chest. It’s better, like this. 

Dave brings a hand up to Link’s hair, scratches at Link’s scalp while they both come down. 

They’re definitely going to miss their dinner reservations, but Link doesn’t care. 

He doesn’t care. 

\---

Season end parties are always a bit raucous. More often than not, Link turns a blind eye to things he really shouldn’t be seeing his employees doing. But it’s a party; there’s alcohol; they’re all adults, and no one is one the clock. 

Dave, catching Link staring at a newer hire doing a row of shots with Josh, presses in close and teases, “Let them have fun, dad.” 

Link grins, shakes his head. And he turns so that he’s facing Dave, but not too close because he’s being careful. 

Dave’s breath smells like Jaeger, and Link grimaces. “Go brush your teeth.” 

“No way,” Dave scoffs. “You’re acting like I was gonna kiss you or something.” 

Link eyes him carefully. “Not smelling like that, you’re not.” 

It earns him a laugh, a wink, and a hand in his back pocket briefly, before he hears Josh calling his name with a, “Come do shots! They taste  _ exactly  _ like blue Kool Aid.” 

Everything is sort of a blur from there, what with Dave pushing him towards the table on which Josh is setting up two row of six shots each before he’s disappearing. And then Link is playing this game with his employee, laughing through each one because they really do taste exactly like blue Kool Aid. 

He loses and has to do another shot for it, but he doesn’t consider it much of a loss. For a second, he entertains the idea of asking Josh how the fuck he does it, drinks this much without his stomach rolling, but then he realizes Josh isn’t even thirty yet. Link did shit like this at that age. 

Fuck, he guesses he’s doing shit like this at this age, too, so that’s not even a fair thought. There’s a hand that’s not Dave’s and certainly not Rhett’s on his shoulder at one point, patting at him in congratulations for being “such a badass,” and he realizes after a beat that it’s still Josh. He’s still with Josh, and that’s okay. 

But then he catches a glimpse of a mess of dark hair and a pair of mile-long legs, and he’s saying, “Thanks, man. Y’all don’t puke anywhere, okay?” 

“Like, nowhere? Not even the toilet?” Josh says, and all Link can muster is a thumbs up before he’s ducking away, Josh’s tinkering laughter trailing off behind him. 

Dave still smells like Jaeger when Link finds him, and he can’t help it when he pulls a face. Rhett smells like it, too, for that matter, and Link tells them, “Y’all been hanging out?” 

“Yep,” Dave says, pulling him close, those hands finding his back pockets again. Cupping over Link’s ass, he glances around them before he’s leaning forward to press their mouths together sweetly. “Had fun with Josh?” 

“Yep,” Link mirrors, grinning up at him, and he forgets for a second that Rhett is there. But then he’s realizing it and turning, looking at him with furrowed brows. “You okay?”

Rhett snorts, sticks his hands in his pockets and nods. “Yeah, man.” 

Link hums, and Dave’s hands are still on his ass, so he doesn’t-- 

He doesn’t know what to do at this point. For a second, he thinks he’s embarrassed, because they haven’t talked about Dave since the last time. They really haven’t talked about anything that isn’t work since the last time, and now Link is dealing with shit. 

And he’s at least well on his way to being drunk, that fuzzy feeling starting in his veins. So it’s weird, now. 

Rhett’s  _ right there _ , and Dave’s hands are on his ass. 

So he ducks out of Dave’s grip in their uncomfortable silence and says, “I’m gonna-- go.” 

“Link,” Rhett starts, but he’s already moving, finding his way back to Josh, back to those blue shots. 

Before he gets there, he feels a familiar hand in his own, fingers wrapping around his wrist. He says, “Dave, come on, man.” 

“Let’s go to the office,” Dave says, and he’s pressing a cold drink into Link’s hand. He takes a sip before he can even tell what it is, and it’s just water. It’s refreshing and grounding, and Link turns to finally look at him, realizing that Rhett’s not with him like he was expecting. 

Link sucks in a breath, feeling unsteady again, and through the music, the smells of food and booze, the adrenaline of the night, he tries to find his footing. 

He can’t, is the problem.  

His eyes are watering just a little, and before he can really lose himself in the mess, there are hands on either side of his head, and Dave is tilting his head up so that they can meet eyes. Dave tells him, “You’re okay. I’m right here.” 

“Yeah,” Link murmurs, and he shakes his arms out. He’s just spinning a little, is all, the loud music and the warm bodies all too much at once. 

“Will you come to the office with me?” Dave asks, and Link is nodding before he can even think about not. 

What he really wants is to find Josh, do more shots, because he’s still got the taste of them on his tongue and it’s better than the bitter taste of the nerves he’s been trying to shake for weeks. 

Because here’s the thing he’s not saying--

He wants to fuck Rhett. 

Gosh, he fucking-- he wants to watch Dave fuck Rhett, wants to touch and watch. But he  _ can’t _ , okay? He can’t because then all these years of denying, of fighting would have been for nothing. They’d have spent their whole lives side-stepping each other, getting into uncomfortable arguments if the other so much as brushed his elbow against the other. 

He can’t, because then he’d been admitting that he’s been lying to himself for years. This thing with Dave was enough of a step forward, he thought. Except Rhett was always right there, and Link knows that they’ve been so stupid all these years. 

_ ‘I’m kind of the other man’ _ , Dave had said, and those words have been echoing in the back of Link’s mind since he said them. And that’s--

That’s how everyone feels, isn’t it? Everyone who so much as meets them, they all feel inadequate because of Rhett, the space he takes up in Link’s life. That isn’t fair to anyone involved. 

So Link follows Dave to the office, knowing full well that Rhett is going to be behind the door. 

He is. 

Link sucks in a sharp breath and tells Dave, “Are you staging an intervention or something?” 

He might be a little drunk. Those shots are catching up with him, and he can hear Dave laugh, but it’s kind of far away right now. He feels the brush of Dave’s beard on his neck when he leans forward to press a wet kiss to the dip of his collarbone. “No, Link,” Dave murmurs against his skin. 

Rhett seems preoccupied, fiddling with things on his desk, pulling his phone out of his pocket to check it briefly. And Dave is guiding him over to the couch, familiar and steady, and Link catches Rhett plopping down in his chair, phone placed face-down on the desk next to him. 

He doesn’t think about it when Dave tugs him into his lap, something else familiar and comforting, and he’s facing Dave, trying his best to pay attention to the way he gets his hands on Link’s hips. It’s a beat, a pause, before Link is shuddering, leaning down to press his mouth to Dave’s. 

It earns him a hum, and Dave’s hands trailing up to the small of his back.  Dave tastes like Jaeger, and Link pulls away with a soft laugh, pulling a face. 

“Gosh, Dave. That’s nasty,” he says. “I rather the cigarettes.” 

Dave sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes with an exaggerated shrug. “I vape now, bro.” 

Shaking his head, Link leans forward to rest his forehead against Dave’s shoulder. He feels better, like this. The office was a good idea, even though he knows Rhett is ten feet away. It’s as though he needed a smaller space to contain his nerves, his panic. And with Dave’s hands trailing across his back gently, keeping him steady, it’s good. 

He’s okay. 

So he says, still looking at Dave, “Hey, Rhett. Come kiss me, man.” 

There’s a chuckle from him, deep and cautious, and Link turns to look at him, not letting Dave move his hands from where they are. He needs to be grounded. He needs to feel steady when he does this, otherwise he’s not sure how it’ll go. 

For a second, when nothing happens, he’s worried he read this whole thing wrong. But then he’s got a third hand on his back, long fingers against the curve of his spine, and Dave is humming as another hand on his chin tilts his head up. 

Rhett licks his lips before asking, “You’re sure?” 

He’s not, but he nods anyway. He’s never going to be sure, he doesn’t think, but he  _ wants _ . So he nods again, when Rhett doesn’t move. 

And then there are unfamiliar lips on his own, soft and plush, with the same sort of scratchiness he gets with Dave’s facial hair and it’s good. Something breaks in him, whether it’s resolve or a dam or a combination of the two, and he’s pressing up and rocking his hips down against Dave’s all at once. It’s tentative and careful, and Rhett makes a sound at the same time as Dave, and it’s good. 

It’s so fucking good. 

The angle is awkward, and Dave’s thumbs are rubbing circles into his skin and it’s perfect. Rhett tastes like whiskey, like home, like a thousand nerve endings all being set alight at once. And Dave underneath him rolls his hips up at the same time as Rhett’s fingers shift, sending goosebumps across Link’s skin. 

He groans against Rhett’s mouth, and it’s a chain reaction. There’s an echo, and he can feel Rhett’s against his lips. He can feel Dave’s against his neck when he leans forward to press his mouth there, warm and wet and almost too much. 

But gosh, it’s good. 

Link is good. 

When Rhett pulls away, sucks in a sharp breath, Link takes the moment to lick his lips, breathe out a laugh and a, “We should talk.” 

Rhett chuckles lowly, his hand still cradling Link’s face, and he nods. “I’ve been thinking about doing that for a while.” 

“Yeah?” And he's grinning, his eyes feeling heavy. 

Rhett, grinning right back at him, swoops down for another kiss that leaves Link a little breathless. 

Dave's hands are still holding him in place, and he feels good.

He feels bold.


End file.
